


Comfort

by pennylehane



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, M/M, Smut, Teasing, domestic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennylehane/pseuds/pennylehane
Summary: A cosy night, and not talking about childhood trauma.





	Comfort

The darkness was absolute. Aaron couldn’t have said if his eyes were open or closed, the blackness pressing weightily down on his skin, warm and honeyed. Perfect, cosy stillness as the ache grew in his thighs.

Hamilton’s hand came down on his scalp in a reassuring scratch. “Sweetheart.”

Aaron sucked harder, earning himself a soft little caress to his cheek with the pad of Hamilton’s thumb, rough with calluses. The ghost of a hand brushing his jaw. He whimpered.

“I have to get back to work, sweetheart.” Hamilton’s hand pulled away, and he moved to box Aaron in tighter with warm, clothed knees. Started to tap at the keyboard.

Still in his jeans. Aaron could almost see him, projected against the blackness as the time fell meaningless like snowflakes over his hunched shoulders. Fully dressed, tucked neatly in against the table, illuminated only by his monitor. The hum of the processor was shivering through Aaron’s muscles and up into the wood, only barely audible to Hamilton. Anyone coming in might turn on the light, might startle them both, and Aaron would have to keep quiet, to be good, to not embarrass Hamilton with his nakedness, his neediness, the drool pooling under Hamilton’s cock and dripping down his chin. The ache in his jaw warred for dominance with the pain in his thighs, spread out to keep him perfectly level with Hamilton’s crotch.

He swallowed, and felt Hamilton buck. Aaron’s stretched lips pulled into a scant little smile.

“I thought you were just gonna keep me warm,” he said, reaching down for the D-ring on Aaron’s collar. He pulled. “Naughty.”

Aaron whined aloud as Hamilton dragged him back off his cock, pulling away to let a slant of light tumble down on them both. His face peering down at him, thoughts flickering over it like clouds.

The whine in Aaron’s throat grew, reedy and desperate.

“You want to suck my dick, baby?” he asked. Eagerness sparked across his grin.

Aaron bit his lip, blinking up at Hamilton. Swallowed, feeling the hollow emptiness of his throat as Hamilton released the collar and stood.

“Come on, then,” he said.

Aaron crawled out from under the table into the dark sitting room, the carpet rough and grainy under his palms. Followed Hamilton to the couch where he flopped back, grinning, watching as Aaron crawled forwards. Patted his thigh.

The condescension of the gesture was _almost_ enough to knock Aaron back to his senses, but instead sent a shudder juttering up his spine. Hamilton’s dick caught the light where his spit still clung to it, almost leaping out from the gloom. Inky black eyes stared down at Aaron as he leaned in, gnawing hopefully on the inseam of Hamilton’s jeans. Nuzzling his cheek into the rough fabric. It was rough on his skin, bitter on his tongue.

A warm hand cupped his chin, pulling him away so Hamilton could stare down at him. If his pupils were blown, it was impossible to tell. Aaron swallowed again. Whined.

“So pretty,” Hamilton murmured, and without the distraction of his computer screen. Aaron cringed at his own pleasure. “So pretty for me like this, baby, you’re so gorgeous, God you’re _wrecked_ , I can see the drool down your chin where you’ve been _so good for me_ , you’re perfect, sweetheart, so pretty with your eyes looking up at me like that, you’re so hungry, you’re _ruined_ , you’re so desperate, you fucking _slut--_ ”

Even like this, Aaron had to resist the urge to tell Hamilton to shut up. Instead, he bit him. Hard enough to feel through denim. Hamilton broke off, gripping him by the collar and yanking him forwards.

He raised a hand, just visible in the corner of Aaron’s vision. The line between terror and arousal flared red-hot—Aaron felt himself quailing, whimpering, wanting—

The hand was forgotten and Hamilton dipped down to kiss his brow. “Are you getting impatient, hmm?”

There was a distinct hum of amusal in his voice, high and bright. Aaron felt his lower lip pop up in a pout, jaw already open and waiting.

“Well, I can’t resist that face, now can I?” Hamilton reached down to wrap both arms around Aaron’s waist and scooped himup onto the couch, reclining with Aaron’s face in his lap. “Go on, then.”

Aaron bared his teeth for just a second—he wasn’t floating, not now, he was alive and awake and on fire and he wanted Hamilton to be scared too.

Hamilton laughed, and petted his scalp. The couch was soft under him, and Hamilton’s caging legs were warm. Rather than get back to work, he snuggled cosily.

“Brat,” Hamilton muttered, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch to arrange over it.

Aaron hummed, pleased, and slid his mouth easily down over Hamilton’s dick, enjoying the relieved gasp he heard through the sheet, back in his safe inlet of darkness.

“You know, your sex habits are pretty weird,” Hamilton added, now that he was safe from reprisals. “The whole darkness thing probably hints at some pretty deep seated childhood trauma.”

Aaron debated biting him, now that he was drawing further up from his drop and closer to just being horny. Preferred to suck harder, swallow, flutter his throat until Hamilton was bucking under him, gasping, words falling into a senseless tangle as he writhed under Aaron’s tongue. Came with a shout, still buried in his throat.

He pulled back. “Talk less, Hamilton.”

Alex groaned, turning so that he could jerk Aaron off. “I like the way you shut me up too much.”

“That’s why you run your mouth?” Even desperate, jerking, panting, Aaron cocked an eyebrow. “I ought to warn Jefferson.”

“Oh my _god_ , Aaron, don’t bring him up in bed, what the hell--”

“Shut up, Alexander,” he groaned, coming in one final jerk.

Alex reached for a tissue to wipe his hand clean, slumping heavily back onto the sofa. “I got no work done. I thought you said I’d be more productive.”

“Shut up and sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> For @FluffyMagpies. 
> 
> Hastily written in an attempt to shake writers' block, but hopefully a fun ride.


End file.
